


28. the language of blood

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [216]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: It’s even harder than usual to pay attention to her stupid piano lesson, because Sarah has decided that tonight is the night she goes downstairs and catches the girl with her face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> YEAH, IT'S A THREE-PARTER NOW, SUE ME,

Sarah hates playing piano. She is terrible at it, and S knows, and Sarah knows S knows, and yet every single night S leads her to the piano and makes her play wretched versions of stupid nursery rhymes. S says it’s teaching Sarah discipline. Like she knows.

It’s even harder to pay attention tonight, because Sarah has decided that tonight is the night she goes downstairs and catches the girl with her face. She’s been trying to figure out what to do; every night she stays downstairs after S goes to bed, and makes a sandwich, and every morning she wakes up early and runs downstairs and the sandwich is gone and the note Sarah has left ( _JUST WRITE ONE WORD PLEASE SO I KNOW YOU’RE READING THESE_ ) is gone too. But they’re running out of bread, and Sarah can’t keep this up forever, and it’s _cold_ outside and the girl with her face must be _cold_. So. Tonight she’s going to wait, and then she’s going to catch her, and then—

Who knows. The girl didn’t even speak in words. _Munyee doozha shkoda_ , what’s that mean?

She’s distracted by her hands slipping on the keys. The piano groans. Sarah agrees with it. She wants to start that old familiar argument with S, _hate you, hate this bloody piano, hate this bloody country_ , but she has to be something like _good_ tonight so that they’ll go to sleep at the normal time and Sarah can come back downstairs. So she bites down hard on her lip and keeps playing. It’s _endless_.

Finally – _finally_ – she’s released from the torture and S heads upstairs to begin the decades-long process of brushing her teeth and stuff before she goes to read. Sarah goes and makes a sandwich. They’re out of bread tonight, just the heels left. Maybe she can buy more? S always leaves her wallet in her purse on the back of the chair, Sarah can just – find a way. She’s good at finding ways. She told herself she wouldn’t steal S’ money, that S would be the foster parent she wouldn’t steal from, but S would understand if she knew. She wouldn’t want this kid to starve.

S’ bedroom door opens and closes and Sarah checks the window – unlocked – before going halfway up the stairs and crouching down. She waits for what must be a hundred years at _least_ before the window slowly creaks open and the girl with her face is there. She’s wearing Sarah’s hat and it’s covered in mud and other gross stuff. Her face is too. She climbs through the window like a stray cat leaping on a Dumpster – it’s almost pretty to watch, in a way. Sarah didn’t know she could move like that.

The girl prowls through the house but loses interest quickly, falls on the sandwich like a starving animal. While she’s stuffing the whole thing in her face she looks at the table next to it. Looks on the ground. She must be looking for a note. So she _was_ reading them.

Sarah tiptoes down the stairs and tiptoes across the floor and then says: “Hey.”

The girl jumps. She tries to bolt for the window but Sarah put herself in front of it on purpose and there’s nowhere for her twin to go. She ducks left, then right, then backs up until her back hits the table. There’s peanut butter smeared around her mouth. She looks terrified.

 _Munyee doozha shkoda_ , she says. _Ya boov holodnee_. _Ya nee hoteev preematee yeezhoo_.

“It’s okay,” Sarah says. “You were supposed to eat it.”

Blank stare.

Sarah claws at her hair, not knowing what to do. She points at the empty plate. She points at the girl. She gives a thumbs-up.

The other girl looks at her. Blinks. Looks at the ceiling, where Sarah’s thumb is pointing. Looks back at Sarah. Mimics the gesture.

Sarah says a word she definitely isn’t supposed to know. “This is the worst,” she says. “You don’t even know what I’m _saying_. I can’t ask you what you’re _doing_ because you can’t even under _stand_ me.”

Blank stare.

Sarah groans, and then rolls her eyes and points to herself. “Sarah,” she says.

Her twin points at Sarah. “Piss off,” she says.

“ _You_ piss off,” Sarah says.

“ _You_ piss off.”

“No, I—” Sarah actually makes a noise that is like _ugh_ , but makes it out loud, and then points at herself even harder and says “ _Sarah_. Sarah. Sarah.” Then she points at her twin. “You…”

The other girl’s mouth makes a perfect _O_. “Helena,” she says, pointing at herself, only she says the _h_ \- like _hhhr_ \- and it’s weird. She points back at Sarah. “Sarah.”

Sarah nods enthusiastically. That’s – progress. Right? Probably. She has no idea what to do next, though; they’re both still beaming with this moderate success.

“Do you – have a mum and dad?” she says. “Or a place to go? Foster home?”

She already knows what’s coming even before she gets another – guess – blank stare. She scrubs her hands through her hair some more, holds up a finger – wait – and goes to the piano. There’s a photo of her and S on it and Sarah plucks it off, holds it up in front of Helena, points at S. Points at Helena. Points at S.

Helena’s eyes go wide. _Mahtee_ , she says.

“Mother,” Sarah says.

Helena nods. “Muuuh-thur. _Maty_.” Then she stops nodding and begins shaking her head, just as hard. _Nee_ , she says.

Sarah gestures around them to the house.

 _Nee_ , Helena says.

Sarah points at the plate.

 _Nee_ , Helena says.

Sarah says another word she isn’t supposed to know. Helena echoes it. From the way she’s grinning, she knows she isn’t supposed to know it either. Sarah wouldn’t grin like that if _she_ didn’t have a house, or food, or a pair of shoes. That’s what made her always come back, every single time she tried to run away. The fear of it. Leaping out into the world with nothing to catch her.

She points at Helena. “Helena,” Helena says obediently.

Then Sarah points to the chair.

 _Nee_ , Helena says. Sarah shakes her head. She points to Helena, and then to the chair.

Helena nods. She sits down.

Sarah points at herself, and then at the photo of S, and then at the stairs, and then at Helena. Her finger is getting sore, and her arm, but hopefully the point comes through: _I’m going to get her, and she is going to fix this._

Helena shakes her head, very fast. _Ya neh hochu, schtob problema_.

“It’s not a _problem_ ,” Sarah says, exasperated. “You’re gonna _die_ out there, _that’s_ a bloody problem.” She rolls her eyes. “Problem…a…nee.”

 _Problema da,_ Helena says.

“No.”

 _Da_.

“No.”

_Da!_

Sarah stomps her foot. “I’m gonna yell,” she says, “and then S is gonna come down with her _rifle_.”

Helena gives her a look of perfect, blissful incomprehension. “Piss off,” she says.

“No,” Sarah says. “Nobody is pissin’ off _anywhere_.”

Helena catches something from the tone, if not the words. She makes a face. Then she says the word Sarah isn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah,” Sarah says. “Yeah, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Translation for the phonetics:
> 
>  _Munyee doozha shkoda_ / I'm sorry
> 
>  _Munyee doozha shkoda. Ya boov holodnee. Ya nee hoteev preematee yeezhoo._ / I'm sorry. I was hungry. I didn't mean to take your food.
> 
>  _Ya neh hochu, schtob problema_ / I don't want to make trouble
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
